Tied (All Torn Up #2)

by Carian Cole

So I, Tyler Grace, the alleged small-town psycho, lure and catch the lost dogs and bring them back to their owners. Actually, that’s not true. I don’t bring them back myself. I let someone much more sociable do that part. I let them play the hero. I just like the thrill of chasing and catching things. It satisfies my inner stalker.

I only wanted to save you. Tell them I saved you. Tell them I’m not crazy.

The man choking him was an animal with long, messy, blond hair and wild eyes, his muscular arms and hands covered with brightly colored tattoos. His voice rough and raw, but the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard. He killed my captor with zero hesitation. Once he gained control, that was it. The powerful fierceness that poured from him was controlled. Owned. Unstoppable. He had no fear. He was beautiful. Exquisite. My captivation quickly shifted from the man who took me to the man who now mesmerized me with every fiber of his existence. He was, in every way, the man I knew would save me.

want the treats so bad my hands tremble and my mouth waters, but I’m afraid to touch them and bring them to my lips. Nice things mean something bad will happen, and I don’t want any more bad things to happen today. I resist the urge to throw them at her.

I want every single thing she listed. Instead, I shake my head defiantly. No, I’m not willing to trade today. I can still stand. I can still lift my head. I can still see clearly. I am not yet sick or weak enough to give into trading.

When there was no way out, I read my books, over and over and over, losing myself in the stories until I became a part of them. That’s how I found out the prince would come save me. It was in all the books, clear as day. So I waited as patiently as I could for him to come.

The bad man hadn’t been lying about a replacement.

There’s no law against being ugly, living in the woods, or riding a motorcycle at night.

Beautiful day or not, I’m going from one prison to another. For so long I wanted to go home and be with my family again, and now that I can, it’s all gone. Time has taken everything away from me.

“Please don’t stand like that by the window. You don’t want the neighbors to see you, do you? It’s bad enough they know what…happened to you,” she stammers. “We don’t need to feed the gossip hounds.”

“My sweet Holly. I missed you so much.” She says with a sob. “Every day I prayed for you.” She pulls back to look at me, tears in her eyes, her mouth quivering. Her hands lightly touch my hair, then my cheeks, before finally resting on my shoulders. This woman loves me. I barely remember her, and I wasn’t allowed to see her until today, but her love for me is overpowering, in her touch and in her eyes. She honestly, truly missed me.

“You screamed. You know what that means. You scream, you get burnt. You pull away? The dog gets burnt. Get it through your head.”

I tried to spend some time with Lizzie during the visit, but Mom acts a little crazy about it, like she doesn’t want me near her.” He chews his bagel and swallows. “That’s because she told Lizzie, a few years ago, you were an angel in heaven. Lizzie thought you were dead, and now here you are, alive and well.” He says it matter-of-factly, without easing into it.

I still expect him to sneak into my space, even though I watched him die. Death doesn’t erase fear or memories. The monsters that live inside us are much harder to get rid of.

The secret to fairy tales is believing in them. That’s what makes them come true.

We’re kindred spirits, me and him. Both debarked. Both scarred. Both lost. Both worried about her. Both still thinking about her.

“Scars don’t define you, Tyler. What you do—and how you treat others—does. You’re hurting. You’re mad at the world. I get it. More than you know.” A hint of sadness and regret deepens his tone. “But people live with far worse problems than what you’re dealing with. Stop letting this ruin you. You’re better than this.”

It was dark, and there was light. Flashing, burning. There was warmth, and there was ice. Melting, oozing. I was flying, but I had no wings. Floating, drifting. Until there was nothing at all. The silence screamed the loudest, crying to be heard.

I blink, and a tear slips down my scarred cheek. Silent sobs wrack my body long after he’s left me alone in the cold hospital room. I cry for my father, who I’ll never get to make things right with or apologize to. I cry for my mother, who lost her best friend and the love of her life. I cry for my brothers and my sister for losing an amazing father. I cry for Tor, for coming so close to his dreams, only to have them ripped away.

How bizarre. How stalkery. How romantic.

“Holly, don’t be ridiculous. Lizzie is just a little girl…and she doesn’t really know you. She’s very vulnerable and innocent.” Her chin lifts slightly. “I don’t want her to know any details about your past. I’ve tried very hard to protect her from all of it. She’d be petrified if she knew the truth.”

She doesn’t know it, but I already have a car for her, waiting in the parking lot of my brother’s motorcycle shop. It’s just a little all-wheel-drive SUV with about ninety thousand miles on it, but it’s clean and dent-free, and it runs good. If she’s moving to New York, she won’t need a car anyway, from what I gather, but at least while she’s here, she’ll be able to get around like the adult that she is. In the meantime, I don’t want to think about her moving to New York because it makes me feel ragey.

“People can be assholes when they have no idea how to deal with their feelings. It’s not you. It’s them.” Yes, listen to the poster child of how not to deal with your fucked-up feelings.

“It’s plush or something,” I mumble, my brain short-circuiting as I watch her basically face-fuck a blanket my mother gave me.

John might be nice, but his eyes are hazel, not blue. He doesn’t wear soft faded jeans with holes at the knees with torn edges. Or leather jackets that smell like smoke and woods. He doesn’t have pictures in his skin, a storybook for me to someday read. And he doesn’t make my heart flutter. He probably doesn’t even own a soft blanket. He’s not prince material, and he never will be. Everyone knows there can only be one prince, and I’ve already found mine.

I can almost believe this girl could love me, scars, damage, ugliness and all. And oh, how ferociously I would love her back if given the chance.

“I have scars, too,” she whispers with a shaky voice. Gently, I brush my knuckles across her cheek. “Show me,” I whisper back.

“Your heart is like a little hummingbird.” He breathes. “It was beating like this the day I found you…” He kisses the valley at the center of my chest, his tongue slowly sending a warm shiver up my spine. “I could feel it against my chest. It made me want to hold on to you forever.”

“I love you.” The sweetest, ragged, whispered words drift from his lips to my ears, and I wish I could bottle them up and keep them forever.

My brother Tor told me—not too long ago, during one of our very rare talks—that karma is a demented bitch. Oh, how right he was.

“It happened the way it had to happen. I guess I was given a second chance to save you, and I didn’t fuck it up this time. It was worth it. You’re safe. And we found each other.”

She’s everything. My past. My present. My future. My twin flame—the one who shares the path of my soul.

Holly, I’m not a prince. I don’t have a white horse. But I have a bike. And a ring. And a new house in the woods, in a town where nobody knows us. I’ll start to go out. With you. I promise. I have Poppy and Boomer. I’m a good weird. I have all the love in the world for you. We can fill in the words together. Meet me outside, and I’ll take you to our happily ever after. Love always, Ty